


Wild Celandine

by Ruiniel



Series: Paths Afire - companion pieces [2]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Glorfindel POV, Glorfindel and wife, Making Love, Middle Earth, Middle Earth AU, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Other, Tolkien Elves - Freeform, What in the blazes are you doing to poor Glorfindel, arda, elves having tasteful sex, fun in the forest, paths afire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22677322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruiniel/pseuds/Ruiniel
Summary: Companion piece to "Paths Afire". Highly recommended to read that Glorfindel/OC fic before this one, for context mainly. Two Elves rest on their way to Lothlórien... No plot. Glorfindel POV. Unapologetically Mature. You know what this is.---DISCLAIMER: This fan fiction is intended for personal, non-commercial use only. No copyright infringement is intended.
Relationships: Glorfindel (Tolkien)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Paths Afire - companion pieces [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1637227
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Wild Celandine

A wry smile splits my face as I wait beside Asfaloth, watching her dismount her own steed. The lessons - through most of which I have acted as an unwilling but dutiful tutor - have finally taken hold. And now she must do this herself, no matter my need to ease her struggle.

"Yeah, watch and giggle. I'll get you for it later, worry not my lord," my wife grumbles in her language with a grudging smile as she passes me by, her belongings slung over one shoulder. I would have aided her, but she insists we keep to the customs and norms, as she calls them, from her world.

" _Not everything must change",_ she said with that flame of a smile, explaining she would prefer it if we acted as we did on Earth. Less chivalry, more common footing, and of course, she carries her own things.

Why would I refuse? If it aids in remembering the first world she knew, I will do what she asks.

It is difficult, I imagine, leaving behind all that you know and care for, thrust into a different dimension of being; and then spend most of your days relearning to live. All of this in a changing body, stripped of all previous comforts you knew and once took as a given. I have lived through such myself when I would come upon a new world in my search and would have to assume it as my own. But I knew, as always, that it would eventually end. To her, this is forever. And I am not as conceited as to not see the personal sacrifice this choice entailed. She is here now, in Arda, for me and for us. There is nothing left for me to do but strive to keep her safe and fulfilled.

Afternoon sunlight spears through the branches of trees and I feel my eye pierced by a stray, lonesome ray as I follow her with my gaze. No doubt if anyone were to see my face, they would report the traits of the besotted fool the young Elrondion twins tell me I have become. I contemplate having to properly humiliate them when sparring again to regain some standing and curb their enthusiasm for jibes.

"Fin, are you coming?" my wife turns to look over her shoulder at me.

I step after her with a grin, awaiting the scoff I know will follow; and so it does, though I saw her brimming smile. The shiver running through me when she acts this way makes itself known yet again, forcing me to smother it down. I cannot, should not want her here, on the road, and far from Imladris; but the sway of her hips draws me with the magnetism of planets, and the image of her parted lips as I take her refuses to disperse from my mind.

Once, in the beginning, after my search led me back to Earth, Ilvanya called me to her apartment. This woman housing the soul of my life mate wanted more of me, and scarcely could I contain my trepidation, though somehow I did. We had not met for a while - I was caught in an unwanted but necessary journey here. I arrived late at an outing her friends invited me to, and though I knew it would be brief, I desperately wanted to see her again. I could not tell her the truth about myself, and she had no notion of the whirlwind her days would become.

But she needed me. Her face hid nothing; she watched me as I once looked upon her, dancing with the winds above the white walls of Ondolindë. But now, she was a child of Earth in an age of advancement and had no qualms with taking the initiative. And when I felt her eyes on me and lifted my gaze, seeing her propped against the door to her balcony, the longing of ages past broke through my crafted mask; the depth of it flared through my eyes before I could rein it. I froze as she neared - so bold and alluring and Valar I had missed her through those thousands of years, and so I sat there, trapped and in grave peril of surrender. I had never been easily swayed in desire before her, and never after her. And here she was, my Ilvanya; watching me as she did so long ago, in a hidden city surrounded by dizzying mountains, when we were complete. I ended it, as other things took precedence then, and employing the full strength of my will, I did what had to be done instead. To this day, I wonder how I resisted her.

A feat unachievable now. Now, though I jest and rile her more often than not, it is to hide how overpowered I am - by her nearness, her scent, the fire between us. Some things indeed never change. But perhaps owed to a dark seed of pride, I go to great lengths to hide the true, shameful extent of what she does to me.

Ilvanya throws me a pointed look. We have settled in a hidden glade close to the road. "Traveling through time and space again, my lord?" she teases.

Oh, but how I would tease _you,_ my lively one, until you rose above the stars and your mind emptied of all that you know. I refocus my vision and smile, working to start a small fire.

Late we share our fare of dried fruit with bread and drink of the wine Elrohir had provided from his infinite collection.

"Oh gods," her mouth forms a tasty little circle as she looks my way, wide-eyed, wooden cup in hand. "Can never, ever, underestimate Elvish wine. Good lord this is exquisite! Elrohir is my new favorite twin," she sips the rest of it. "Be sure to tell Elladan," she grins with mischief.

"You may regret this indulgence on the morrow."

Ilvanya shrugs. "That's for tomorrow's Ilva to worry about. Now please," she lifts the empty cup for a refill.

Shaking my head, I do as she asks. "But then I have held your hair before, and in worse circumstances," I deadpan, watching her from across the fire.

She mirrors my smile, and my thought turns to the first night we met on Earth.

"Your boots are safe this time, I promise," she chimes, giggling at a sudden hiccup.

It is late as we unpack for a night's rest under summer skies on our route to Lothlórien. I am bound there to hold council on the recent strange changes in the world, and I could not leave her behind any more than she wanted to remain in Imladris. And I wanted her to see Lorien, to discover more of our world and the kindreds of her people. My face raised to the cold stars, I hear the slow shift of galaxies and endless circles from afar, struggling in their lonesome seats upon the skies.

I almost drift away into communion as the flames warm my face, and my body softens against the hard earth beneath our cloaks.

My purpose stays clear, and the reward is great; more than I ever hoped for. I hold her tighter, my eyes locked on the dark sky, vivid as the Kindler's nightly tresses. Silver light mellows my thought, my nerves, infuses my center. There is peace.

There is fear. It bolts through me like the cracking of a whip.

I open my eyes to feel her struggling against me, her words hissed, her limbs contorting in strange positions.

"Ilva... Ilva, it is I," I hold her and try to soothe her, my fingers sifting through the wild strands of her hair. "Ilvanya," I whisper again when she cannot awaken and thrashes; I call to her with all the care and worry I feel through our bond and after much trial, she softens against me. Her breathing is quick and shallow as she turns her head, her eyes tired and frightened.

"I... I'm sorry, it was Moria- and then _him_ ," she trails away at the last word, lowering her lashes as she turns away, coiled deeper into herself. "Like before."

Nightmares still plague her. She says they are nothing, but her days following such nightly frights are always strange, and I know she has not forgotten our ordeal through the mines. She dreams of us fleeing through Moria where all its halls are burning and then the fire takes me, and shadows take her. More or less the same nightmare, with varying outcomes. She hears his voice in her sleep, warning of no escape. I try to aid her with what I know, but the aftermath of trauma is immense; its tendrils run deep. I do what I always have; I hold her to me, rocking her back and forth to calm her battering heart.

She turns to face me, a palm to my cheek. "I'm so happy you're here," she smiles, and in her eyes I see the signs that sleep will elude for tonight. At first, she could not sleep at all. And now the dreams do not cease. I meet her smile and tuck a strand of unruly hair behind her ear, sweeping its tip with my thumb.

"Fin- " she gasps and meets my eyes, her hands fisted in my travel tunic.

"I got ahead of myself," I tell her, in English, knowing it soothes her to hear it. "Rest," I urge, draping my arm around her waist as I peck the tip of her nose.

"Do it again," I hear the soft, reserved words.

I meet her eyes, confused. She smiles so shyly it levels me and turns her face inward, presenting me with the full sight of her elegant little ear.

"Which part of _rest_ did you not comprehend?" I try reason, though inside I burn to glide my tongue over that lovely appendage and continue over the rest of her. These primal states of mind and body in her presence can overwhelm, though I recall we have been much this way the first time we married. The need to own her is great, to control her gasps and sighs, to have her merge into me forever and a day.

"Please," she smiles and reaches around my neck, following the quiver of my lips as her fingers curl into my hair, pulling with just enough pressure as to diminish my resolve. "It'll help me rest," Ilvanya adds, and that fiendish smile widens at my strangled sigh.

"You know not what you ask for," I tease a little too darkly, unsure whether she is in a state to withstand this. My hand draws soothing motions over her back as Ilvanya comes flush against me and I am once again drifting on her scent, the fragrance reminiscent of wild celandine.

With her touch upon my cheek, I follow her changing expression as my finger gently grazes the tip of her ear. She clutches at my arm as I tip her chin upward, and smiling, I flick my tongue over her dry lips. Her breath catches; then, again, slower, and she grasps me tighter, opening for me, deepening the kiss. The taste of her is light and filling and I tilt my head, suckling on her tongue as I turn, trapping her beneath me.

"Ilva," I whisper, seeing the desire in her eyes. At least she is smiling now, but I want to ask if this is truly what she needs. I know how intense our moments together can be, leaving us slick and fulfilled but tired to face the day more often than not.

But she curbs my question, her slender fingers caught in my hair, her nose pressed to the side of my neck as she inhales me; her lips find my skin. "You taste so sweet…" she murmurs and I grin, recalling a few very pleasurable past moments when she had said the same.

I lift her to me slowly, drawing her into my lap; she takes her time with the fastenings of my tunic, and I mirror her movements, my fingers sure and steady. Who am I attempting to deceive? She knows very, very well what she does to me. She presses down on my hips as I lift her arms to remove her shirt. "Hey, you too, Blondie," she gushes, and I hastily comply.

She gapes at me. "I will never get over this," says Ilvanya in that endearing, husky tone I know too well, "… how perfect you are, that is."

"We have forever," I tell her, attempting to guide her onto the forest bed. But she resists.

"No," she raises her chin, defiant, " _you_ tonight," her palms push against me, leading me down on my back; I lie there, defeated, amid dry leaves and grass, eyes narrowing at the devious curl of her lips.

She straddles me, still wearing her leggings, and I pull at their lacings even as she swats my hand away, propping her hands on either side of my head. "I want to taste."

Those words, her flushed face and the despicable way she bites her lip undo me.

She feels it. She feels me hardening against her and so enjoys it, the little vixen, rolling her hips back and forth until I must steady her.

"Slower," I order harshly but she has weakened me, and I cling to a last shred of control.

Ilvanya says nothing, the smile gone, replaced by something else as she aids in removing my boots. I feel her warmth against my knees before her searching hands reach for my abdomen, feeling every rippling indentation. She lingers on my hips, drawing my trousers down. She looks me in the eye, grinning like a devil. I rise propped on my elbows, to at least give the impression of equal ground. Of course, that is a fool's game; there is no such thing. Not with her. Even when I possess her wildly, smothering her moans, I am still hers to do with as she pleases. This I have known in a different Age during our times in Ondolindë, and it remains unchanged.

I tilt my head back, biting my lip so hard I pierce the skin as she releases me from the constraint of my garment, and soon her touch is all I know. I know she enjoys my panting submission, her nimble hand feeling me in even motions.

I cannot help the burning need at her torment; my hips thrust upward, craving the complete warmth of her. "I must have you. _Now_ ," I whisper amid her games, gasping as she applies more pressure.

"Not yet," she murmurs in kind, and a strained sigh escapes me; for the briefest of moments, I close my eyes.

The greatest mistake. For now, the shivers of the universe spear through me, and I see her pink tongue teasing my throbbing length. The sight is always both harrowing and enticing in the worst of ways, leading me down a worrying spiral of darkened things I would do to her.

"I said I would get you later…" she whispers evilly before one long, drawn-out suckle, flinging me into the endless depths of mindless bliss. "Tell me how you want this."

Her soft lips envelop me again and I watch her, lost and drowning in abject desire, subdued by her power; and she asks me what to do. "Faster," I manage, and she follows, taking me into her mouth with maddening ease.

My eyes are half-closed and I can hardly breathe for the storm of sensation raging through me, my hand reaching of its own volition to take a fistful of her hair as I force her to cease, pushing my hips upward, holding her there. I feel her inside, the warm softness of her tongue, her mouth, her neck.

But this was enough. I pull on her hair forcing her up, and rise to meld my mouth to hers; tasting her deeply even as she tries to pull away. "No-, not yet!" she laughs, pushing against me.

"Oh yes-," I hiss, and despite her struggle I make fast work of her clothing, leaving her bare with practiced urgency. I order her shoulders down until she lies flat on her back, writhing and grinning only to give me grief but I pin her to the ground without mercy, and for a mere moment I regret using my strength on her; I feel her shivering in need. "Open to me," I mock-order in English as I hover above her, frowning when she shakes her head.

So this is how it will be tonight. Smirking, I apply mild pressure yet again, though she weakly squirms, easily slipping my hand between her thighs, placing it flat on the small tuft between her legs. She stills as I capture her mouth and my fingers delve into her slippery warmth; my touch then turns shallow, languid, circling around her opening. I slip one finger inside. "So tight..." my kiss turns bruising as I stroke her, drifting on her soft mewling.

"Now you have to… please…" she begs.

I laugh low, deep in my throat. "Not yet," I echo her earlier words, grinning at her frustrated sigh.

"You… have… the worst timing for revenge," she pants as my fingers find a rhythm, filling her. Her hips tilt upward for more.

"Do I, really?"

"Fin, _please!"_ Her hand is frantic now, stroking me with desperate urgency.

"That… is not my name," I whisper, suckling on her tongue, craving to bury myself into her.

But she will not have her way, yet. In a movement faster than she can object, I rise, drawing her hips to me, and my head dips between her thighs.

Her hoarse moan echoes through the glade as I press my lips to her warm slit, my tongue slow and prying, holding her steady as she writhes. It is not long before she screams my name, my _actual_ name, broken by desire, and I feel her hand in my hair - needing me to take all of her. It is hard to cease, even when she contorts and squirms, and I feel her peaking against me. Smiling, I play with her, slower now, and my kiss follows a trail upward, over her belly, and up the rest of her.

Looking upon her face, I see her lips swollen and red from the bites she subjected them to. The night is still young as I hold her to me.

"My golden warrior... is not too shabby with his tongue," she says dreamily as I nip at her lips.

We regard each other, and I feel the entreaty of her trembling body against mine. "Now…" she calls lazily.

Smiling, I cannot but obey.


End file.
